


Rough

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18563701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: It’s been a rough week.Rough.





	Rough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gemothy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemothy/gifts).



It’s been a rough week.

 _Rough_.

Vimes has been lying with Sybil in the living room for a little over an hour now, one of Sybil’s arms slung about his waist as they lie on the chaise long together, her breathing slow and smooth against the back of his neck. The roiling anxiety in his stomach is only now beginning to cede, although the actual  _panic_  had passed, the desperate fear that it would all End And End Soon, Vimes, Why Didn’t You Realize...?, and had as soon as he’d rushed upstairs to touch Young Sam’s hair and let his chatter about insectology rush over his head, the deep set nerves linger.

“I’m going to retire,” he said, exhaling hard. “This year.”

“You needn’t,” Sybil murmured. “If you--”

“I have to.”

He felt Sybil’s body relax slightly, felt her lips touch against the back of his neck. The prickling fear burned under his skin, but with every moment of Sybil, just like this, it dissipated a little faster. He could have died. He knew that, that he could have died, and once he’d been back into the city, he’d been safe, and yet it lingered, the thought,  _he could have died_ \--

“Lord Vetinari to see you, sir, my lady,” Willikins said, materialising in the doorway, and Vimes’ heart gave an abrupt rush of guilty heat as he sat up, and Sybil sat up with him.

Willikins stepped back, and Vimes looked to Vetinari in the doorway as he stepped inside, delicately pushing the door shut behind him with a quiet click. He looked pale, paler than usual, and Vimes felt his gut twist as he saw Vetinari look at him and  _relax_ , some of the tension leaving his square shoulders.

“Sorry,” Vimes said.

“Oh,  _Sam_ ,” Sybil said. “Didn’t you go to the Palace first?”

“I would have scolded you if you had,” Vetinari murmured, stepping forward, and when Vimes stood to his feet he felt Vetinari’s warm fingers cup his cheeks, then go to his shoulders, his upper arms, his lower arms, his waist. They were the quick, cursory movements of a medical man, and with every small movement, he saw a little of the hardness eke out of Vetinari’s expression. “I merely wish you had sent a clacks to tell me you were alright. Two hours since my clerks said you were back in the city--”

“Sorry,” Vimes said again. “I should’ve come, I should’ve sent a clacks, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t easy, at times, to balance it, to balance Sybil and Vetinari both, and tonight... 

“You needn’t apologise,” Vetinari said quietly, and his hands cupped Vimes’ cheeks once more, his thumbs drawing over the stubble growing thick on the skin, where he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I thought...” He trailed off, his icy eyes focusing on some sight in the middle distance before they flickered back to Vimes’ face. “I shall leave the two of you alone, in any case, I did not mean to intrude.”

“You mustn’t go, Havelock,” Sybil murmured. It wasn’t quite one of Sybil’s orders, but it had an edge of steel in it. “Stay here. The city might spare you for half an hour.”

“Ten minutes,” Vetinari allowed, after a moment’s uncertainty.

Vimes reached up, grasped at Vetinari’s hand before he could pull it away from his cheek, and he felt Vetinari’s gaze on him as Vimes stepped back toward the chaise, drawing Vetinari with him. 

“There is hardly space--”

“There is,” Vimes said stubbornly, and he hauled Vetinari down with him, lying down to face Vimes, pinning him between Vetinari and Sybil both. Sybil’s hand grabbed at his thigh, his hip, as Vetinari drew his fingers through Sam’s hair, scratching over his scalp. 

“You must retire,” Vetinari said lowly.

“I will if you will,” Vimes replied, his tone light and joking.

There was a short, tense silence. He couldn’t see Vetinari’s face, lying as he was, his face pressed against the other man’s breast, but he felt how stiff Vetinari’s body was, and he felt Sybil behind him, squeezing Vimes a little tighter. 

“We love you, dear,” Sybil said, and she kissed the top of Vimes’ head, but he didn’t feel like it was addressed to him.

“Ten minutes,” Vetinari said.

“Fifteen,” Vimes said.

“Ten.”

“Fifteen,” Sybil said.

“ _Ten_.”

(Fifteen.)

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up [on Dreamwidth](https://dictionarywrites.dreamwidth.org/2287.html). You can send requests [on Tumblr](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask), too. Requests always open.
> 
> Please, please remember to comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
